


heimat

by solitariusvirtus



Series: AU! Concepts [7]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-30 09:18:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13948524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solitariusvirtus/pseuds/solitariusvirtus
Summary: “Neither of us wishes to be the petty heir. Stand and fight.”AU! Some things are worth any scarifice.





	heimat

The leaves rustled, the waves of sound tickling his ear. Jon squealed in delight as he lurched towards the heavens, only half-hearing the worried voice of his mother. “Higher,” he ordered imperiously once safely in the hands of his father.

Once more his mother spoke, the pitch higher, worry more pronounced. “Rhaegar, put him down. That’s dangerous.”

Father chuckled. “I won’t drop him, Lyanna.” The steel quelled the waves. Over his father’s shoulder, he saw mother cross her arms over her chest, frowning.

“Higher.”  

He sailed upwards, reached out towards the dancing leaves. One of the little sprites fell prey to his grip. He whooped at the triumph, coming back down.

* * *

 

The benign smile annoyed him to no end. Jon knelt at his father’s left, his heir to his right. He did not pray to gods of stone anymore than he accepted the interloper in his home. Scowling at the Crown Prince who glared back at him, Jon held his gaze.

Father’s head snapped up, as though realisation came upon him. He looked from one of them to the other. What had been a smile upon his face melted back into the steel of his prosaic gravity. He stood but indicated they should remain kneeling. “When my time comes, I pray all hell rejoices I am no longer fighting, yet trembles in fear at the sight of the legacy I leave behind. How can I go in peace when you fight among yourselves?”

* * *

 

Father lied dead at his feet, a thin line of blood running down from the corner of his mouth, unseeing eyes striking towards the heavens. Jon took a moment to glance up at the darkened skies before his attention moved to the oncoming wave of enemies. Before long his father would stand on his feet once again, a puppet of strings he knew not how to cut.

He vaulted over the corpse, cutting through the enemy line, trying to find his brother.

Aegon he discovered down on his knees, the mark of defeat looming over him threateningly. His sword ripped through the weights as he came to stand before the man. “What are you doing here? I’ve ordered the retreat sounded.” Only then did he notice the wound in his leg. His brother would not be able to run.

“Neither of us wishes to be the petty heir. Stand and fight.”

   


End file.
